Give It To Me Straight
by Emily Destler
Summary: Mike runs into someone from his past which brings up an unwanted and incredibly annoying myriad of questions from our beloved Johnny. This leads to an unprecedented turn of events, well, unprecedented for Mike, at least. Will he ever catch a break? Probably not! Or: The agents of Graceland have no sense of boundaries and are all at least a little queer. Set in early season 2.


"Johnny, seriously, just leave it alone."

"Just tell me who that guy was, man!" Johnny exclaimed, exasperated and inflection suggesting incredulity. He wasn't going to let this one go, not yet. Letting go just wasn't in his nature.

Mike slams the door hard behind them, and within they are both washed in Graceland's quality air conditioning with a resounding puff. He walks through the foyer of the house with a heavy step, and the signs of exhaustion in his gait and expression are clearly from Johnny's persistent prompting. But, of course, Johnny just follows eagerly, right on his heels, like the oversized puppy he is.

Meanwhile, Dale is relaxing, reclined on the couch with his feet up, sipping Oolong tea and watching a Friends marathon on their TV set. He turns his head to them when they enter, brow drawn sceptically, then immediately loses interest and devotes his attention back to Ross' man-pain and Joey's antics. In the kitchen, Paige is sorting through an array of documents that incline the probability of the bus line, and the alleged involvement of the Solano drug cartel, studying them carefully. She doesn't even look up when the pair walks through.

"It doesn't matter, just drop it." Mike says what would have been described as evenly if it hadn't come out so testy. He turns around to face the other man, his hands extended just inches away from Johnny's arms: a gesture for space. They've been back and forth at this for twenty-plus minutes and, honestly, Mike is about ready to deck the other agent.

"Not until," Johnny presses a finger into the center of Mike's chest, "you tell me how you know that dude."

"What dude?" Paige asks, a little indifferently and still not even bothering to glance up from her work. She's a class-A multitasker, or so she tells people.

They turn their heads towards her at the intrusion, both with starkly contrasting expressions on their faces. Mike's exhausted and annoyed expression is battling Johnny's vaguely excited one, and Paige is definitely more amused by this than the paperwork, so she sets it aside for now.

Mike scoffs, or huffs, or something in-between the two, and leaves the scene, distancing himself from what he sees as nothing but unnecessary trouble. He plops himself on the other couch in the living room with a heap, exhausted. Johnny looks to him, then to Paige, who lifts an eyebrow at him surreptitiously, and walks to the door frame leading to the living room. He takes that as his cue, and is all of the sudden whipping out a story, one that he's been absentmindedly preparing since they left the food truck:

"Alright, so get this: we were just leaving Hector's, you know, eating tacos, minding our own business," Johnny starts, gesturing emphatically, typical Johnny-style, "when all of the sudden this tall dude comes out of nowhere and comes up to Mike. And the guy's all 'hey, how ya been, how you doing' and immediately goes in for a hug. Then Mike, being all weird and shit when the dude asks him to go out for a beer to catch up, shoots him down for no reason. . ." Johnny slows down his words purposefully at the last bit, directing them to Mike, who now has his head resting in his hands tiredly, piqued.

"And?" DJ speaks up from the living room, prompting Johnny along, still only half-interested and not yet getting Johnny's whole issue with Mike and this john. But, really, what was he expecting from the Wikipedia of nonsense?

Johnny looks into his eyes and points, starting right back up again:

"Okay, so then this hombre who seemed to not have even acknowledged my existence 'till this point, looks at me funny and is all like 'oh, uh, sorry, man. My mistake. Hey, catch you later, Mike.' And leaves. All smiles. Freakin' weird, right?" And now he's looking back and forth to his attentive audience, seeking their reactions, an expectant smirk on his face.

A few moments pass, clouded with thought, but by the end of it all three of the agents gazes' have been turned to Mike, who looks simply indignant in his seat. The silence goes on for a few more moments, Mike looking at each of their faces incredulously.

Jakes is the first to speak, and this was a surprise: "So who is he, Mike?" He asks, serious, with his brows drawn and his body still. Something in his face makes it look like he expects the question to be answered when he's the one asking it, and not their fun-loving-to-a-fault teammate, but hey, all's fair.

"Yeah, Mike, who is he?" Paige perks up, actually intrigued and finally standing up and walking away from her work in the kitchen. She saunters into the living room and rests her elbows against the headrest of the couch Dale's on, joining him in the impromptu stare-down they've initiated. She needs a real break from Mike's case, she's decided, and if that means badgering him for a story that is without a doubt from his personal life, she'll be happy to oblige. She swings a beer in one of her hands idly as she stands there, but doesn't look anywhere but at the man in question.

Meanwhile, Johnny is smiling triumphantly.

Mike eventually comes to accept that they won't relent without an answer from him, and he sighs for the millionth time since they left Hector's. "He's just... A friend of mine from Quantico, okay? He was a year above me until he dropped out. I hadn't seem him since. That's it. Happy?"

Johnny starts to chuckle, disbelief twinkling in his eyes. "Uh-uh,"

"Bullshit," Paige sniggers, taking a swig from her beer and climbing over the couch to sit next to Jakes, who is just shaking his head slowly in disapproval. If the job taught any of them anything, it was how to spot someone telling a lie. And this was a huge-ass lie.

Jakes agent tilts his head back slightly, and repeats his question. "Who is he, Mike?"

"What?" Mike squeaks, adorably taken off-guard by the most reserved of them all being the one to drill him about something as meaningless as this. "I already told you he-"

"Man, shut up," Johnny giggles, "Who is he really?"

"An old friend." Mike stresses, blue eyes boring into the other agents, so wide that you could measure his iris' circumference. Of course, none of them are buying it.

"Oh," Johnny furrows his brows in mock-seriousness, but the little shit is somehow still able to keep the legendary smile of sunshine on his face. "And how close would you say you and this old friend were, hm?" His tone is suggestive and he arches a brow. Mike is a little too quick to interrupt.

"Oh, no, no. You guys got it wrong."

Johnny is giggling again, very happy in his teasing. Mike scowls but starts to blush nonetheless, the first ounce of humility they've seen in a while, or at least since he'd come back to the house. Mike's changed a lot since they last saw him, this is without question, and some of them, some like Johnny, can't quite decide if it's for the better or worse. Where was the new kid from Virginia with a twinkle in his eye and all the eagerness in the world that they all know and love?

"This is ridiculous." Mike groans, scrubbing his face with his hand.

"Oh, Mike, how is it you could be so good at your job but such a bad liar?" Paige grins wide, her green eyes twinkling, and the glass tip of her bottle resting against her bottom lip. "Who is this mystery man really? How do you know him? Come on, you have to tell us."

"He's nobody," Mike insists loudly, followed immediately by an uproar of three unintelligible voices protesting his boring, repetitive response. He sighs, rubbing his eyes tiredly, and it's really the perfect time for Paige to peg the throwpillow she's been hugging to her chest at him playfully.

It's also the perfect time for Charlie to come hopping down the stairs, striding with a casual step through the living room until she plops down next to Mike.

"What are we talking about?" she asks coolly, looking around the room and taking note of everyone's eager expressions and Mike's dilemma. This ought to be interesting.

"Mike ran into a guy in the street and it was weird and he won't tell us who he is." Paige filled in for her.

"Oh," Charlie mouths, her brows raised, eyes skidding across the whole lot of them, then landing on Mike as her lips purse.

"It's nothing," Mike tells her vehemently, something that really doesn't bear repeating anymore. His eyes bore into hers urgently, like he's a volunteer in a room full of screaming kindergarteners and she's recess.

"Well, it's obviously something, Mikey." She tells him, cocking her head to one side, and Mike is despairing now that he knows sweet release won't come as soon as he hoped. "And if you think you're gonna get off the hook so easy with these degenerates, you've really spent too much time away in that big-time DC job of yours."

These wise words from the mom of the house earned a round of things like "right" and "exactly" and "so you better spill, Mike" from the rest.

"There's nothing to spill, I promise you." Mike cries, but, of course, Charlie of all people can see through the bullshit. Even so, she grasps his shoulder in solidarity. She reassures him that it'll only get worse, way way before it gets better, then laughs when he shoots her a look. It's all teasing and fun, anyway. Mike needs to re-learn how to loosen up. And, apparently, re-learn one of their founding rules.

"No secrets at Graceland..." Paige sing-songs, seemingly on cue, with a winning grin and a crinkle to her eyes, suggesting a sweet kind of deviance. Johnny goes to sit beside her, emphasizing her point, and starts anew with his (incredibly annoying) billion-dollar questionnaire:

"What's his name, at least? C'mon, just give us a name." There was a childish whine in his voice which Mike might have found a little bit funny if he weren't a little bit pissed.

"Yeah, his name, just his name." Charlie amended, trying to make some peace.

"Tom. Thomas." Mike admits, and now he's sulking like a teenager, surrounded by teasing siblings and a wine-mon who are too interested in his proclivities. "It doesn't matter, leave me alone."

"Nu-uh, somethin' happened with this guy and I wanna know what. Mikey, c'mon, man, just tell us, c'mon."

Johnny's looking at him expectantly, and there's something knowing in his eyes. Mike really doesn't like the feeling it gives him in his gut. Not to mention there's Jakes, Paige, and Charlie in the room with him, probably doting on his every word or whatever tell they're reading from his behavior.

Mike looks to Charlie (wine-mom), helpless, and she just shrugs, leaving the rest up to him. Mike feels sort of betrayed, if he's being honest with himself. He tries flashing her his pouty kicked-puppy eyes he heard her once talking to Briggs about at The Drop after they'd all had too much to drink, but he's altogether out numbered and a simple lift of Charlie's eyebrows and a tut from her lips has him back to ground zero.

"Mike . . ." Johnny groans childishly, obviously very impatient for his answer, the ones he's been waiting and pestering him for for at least forty-five minutes.

"Come on, man . . . Just . . . Tell . . . Us."

When Mike's continues being as unresponsive as a brick, Johnny takes the extra mile and goes up to him, starts to shake him on the arm, insistent and very petulant and Mike is honestly so sick of it that he finally snaps.

"Fine!" He yells, stopping everyone in their tracks. "We dated, okay? He was my boyfriend for a year and a half before he dropped out of school and I had to break up with him! Satisfied?"

For the first time in a long ten minutes there's a real silence. It spreads across the living room immediately, along with a sheet of tension. Then Mike realizes what he's said, and that sick feeling in his stomach grows, twisting his insides unpleasantly. He doesn't know what he expects from them. Laughs? Jeers? Discomfort? Straight up condemnation? Well, maybe it wouldn't go that far, but he sure as hell is not expecting Johnny to leap up from where he's kneeling with his fist pumping into the air, hooting in triumph.

"I knew it!" Johnny laughs somewhat maniacally, then points his fingers into D.J.'s face. "Sucker!" He gloats, doing a little happy dance in front of him. Jakes' face has gone stone cold, then becomes annoyed as he swats Johnny's hands away from him irritably. When Johnny just barely sobers from his high, it's only to get what's coming to him, drumming his hands against the coffee table. "C'mon, man, cough it up!"

Dale reaches for his wallet reluctantly, slipping out a twenty and slapping it into Johnny's out-reached palm with a grave expression.

Mike is still and uncomprehending, staring at the transaction in front of him and reluctantly trying to make sense of it. It wasn't until Charlie speaks up that it officially clicks.

"You two have no class. Dealing it out right in front of the kid?"

Mike blinks, jaw opening, then closing. He shakes his head, flustered.

"Charlie, babe, don't pretend you weren't in on it, too."

"Shut up, Paige."

He wants to miss the exchange of a ten between the two girls, he really does, but it catches his eye anyways. What the hell?

"Wait, did—" Mike's splutters, then becomes incredulous; "Did you all make bets on whether or not I was—" He paused, instinctually cautious. This was almost too bizarre to accuse of them, this rag-tag group of insane domestic agents, but still federal agents, adults.

"It wasn't my idea, alright?" Was Jakes defense on the matter, eyeing Johnny in distaste. "Casanova over here just kept trying to pull me into it. I told him there was no way you coulda ever played for the other team." Then his face becomes smug. "Guess I was wrong."

Mike chuckles a little, hysterically. What the actual hell?

"Sorry, Mikey, if we invaded you're privacy," Charlie says, and she seems genuinely concerned about it. And it's altogether hard to accept, and he knows he should be—he has a right to be genuinely upset about this, to feel exploited and humiliated, but, oddly enough, If Mike weren't so flabbergasted he would have told her that it was . . . It was okay. This—this realization—actually makes him lighten up a little. Maybe he is acting too uptight. From the way it seems, they aren't making fun of him for this. I mean, really, he would've expected downright rejection and hate much more than this, this easy acceptance, even if it involves them making bets on his sexual preference. But it's not like they were playing some cruel game to demean him. In fact, it seemed really, weirdly . . . Normal. This prospect opens up a whole new can of worms. He has a ton of questions that he needs answered before he can rest soundly, and be officially alright with this whole situation.

He watches the agents around him, Johnny clapping him on the back and Paige stuffing her new ten dollar bill in her wallet, Jakes and Charlie sharing sympathetic looks and condolences for their equal loses. He wonders at their natural commotion, the house's easy-going atmosphere, and their unity, and the doubts that he could ever fit into this wonderful mess once again wrack his brain, for the first time since he was a rookie, but maybe the last. Maybe he does fit in, after all, just in a different way than he could ever understand. Maybe he's okay with that.

"Honestly, I was expecting a completely different reaction than this." Mike calls out, still mindful of what he says, where he's treading. He can never be too careful with this stuff.

"Nah, man, you shoulda just told us about him, it's totally cool." Johnny assures, smiling warmly. "I mean, I don't know what you label yourself as or whatever, but you should feel comfortable with it, bro. Especially at Graceland. I know I am."

"Wait, you're . . . What?"

And Mike is once again dumbfounded.

"Aw, yeah, Mikey, you didn't know? I'm bi." Johnny preens, and Mike stares at him while he tries to decide if he's joking.

"Seriously?"

"Yeah, seriously."

And he's not lying. Meanwhile, Mike mind is reeling in disbelief.

"Uh . . . Wow."

Honestly, he's surprised by how open Johnny is about it, how open he's being right now. Well, I mean, it's Johnny, he's no introvert, but Mike's still taken aback by what he's revealed to him, so casually, just now without any hesitation. Well, actually, he expected him to know. In retrospect, he can sort of understand it. Johnny is incredibly flirty, but he's always assumed that it was just a part of his personality. He never thought this man could be genuinely attracted to the people he joked around with. "So's Charlie, actually." Johnny adds.

"What?" Mike whips his head back to wine-mom, who's still sitting next to him, a smug expression on her face. His eyes are wide and his mouth is agape, expectant.

"True shit." She says, nodding and looking him in the eyes deliberately. And then Paige and Johnny are laughing at Mike's reaction, the obvious shock clear on his face.

Mike laughs along with them after a few seconds, though with decidedly less humor, rubbing a hand down his face. "This is unreal."

"Better believe it, Warren." Jakes pipes up. "Just count yourself lucky you're finding out like this. Scared the shit out a' me when I came downstairs to see Tuturro getting hot and heavy with some poor white boy from Napa County on the couch just two weeks after I even met him."

That startles a laugh out of Mike, and Johnny doesn't even blush. Really, he just looks proud of himself. Mike isn't that fazed by this, if he's really being honest with himself. "Oh, then I'm guessing you're—"

"As a pin." Jakes agrees, "But I don't give a shit what people want to do or who they do it with. That ain't me, that's their life."

"C'mon, you know you liked it a little bit, Jakes, don't lie." Johnny teases him, sitting down in between him and Paige, nudging him with his elbow, a testament of how his mouth has a mind of it's own, or maybe he honestly doesn't give a shit, because his shit-eating grin is enough to prove as much.

"Don't test me Johnny—" but Johnny is already laughing and getting back up, reminding them all how he loves to play around, and never means any harm by what he says. He and Jakes have always feuded, but Johnny's only ever has good intentions.

Knowing that he can now identify with Johnny in a totally new way, Mike suddenly feels much closer to him. To everyone, actually. It feels good, to finally feel like a part of the house after coming back here. Or maybe for the first time.

"Hey, Johnny isn't the only one with surprises." Paige says conversationally after a brief pause, grinning wide. "I was the biggest lesbian anyone had ever seen when I was a teenager. No joke! You wouldn't believe my collection of Doc Martins or my high school year book pictures. I was a stud." She laughs, reclining back on the couch casually, encouraging a relaxed nature to spread throughout the lot, not unlike the feeling of being sat around the Graceland bonfire, sharing stories and drinks.

"You're kidding?" Mike face is placid, but his eyes are amazed, even as his shoulders relax and he slouches slightly.

"Swear to God. I even cut off all my hair. I was sixteen and my Mom almost had a stroke." They both chuckle, and Charlie shakes her head fondly.

"What changed?" He asks her.

"Sexuality is fluid, Mike." Paige says seriously, but still with a smile in her eyes. "Or at least mine is. Where's the fun in restricting who you can and cannot be with with a label?"

It takes a moment for Mike, but he thinks he understand where she's coming from, and nods.

Somewhere in the background of all of this Johnny iscelebrating his winnings, muttering self-congratulatory phrases, and somewhere in there Mike thinks he hears "I got a Queer Eye for the FBI, son!" which is, admittedly, something he would have never guessed he'd hear come out of that man's mouth for as long as he's known him. Doesn't mean it isn't one of the best things he's ever heard.

The entire lot of them fall into an easy chatter, some banter, but mostly good-natured conversation about their past relationships, and some priceless stories about the team Mike can't believe he's never got to hear before. And Mike is pretty content to just sit there and belong.

Not long after, another pair of footsteps are making their way down the stairs, and Johnny calls out a "Yo, Briggs!" when the eldest agent makes an appearance in the living room.

Briggs takes inventory of the situation, the whole house gathered in one room, which could only mean a few things. "Oh, man, what'd I miss?"

"Missed me making twenty bucks is what you missed." Johnny tells him arrogantly. "Ay, by the way, thanks for the tip, brother."

Briggs looks to the ceiling quizzically, and then it clicks. He grins at Mike smugly, "Yup, I knew I had the right of it." He says, with a disgusting amount of confidence, and then laughs to himself.

"Oh no, c'mon, you're telling me you were in it, too?" Mike asks, slightly exasperated, and it's almost getting to be to much for him to believe. They gotta be fucking with him, right?

"Didn't need to be, Warren. I happen to have an excellent gaydar. But to be fair, Johnny's the one who straight-up asked me — no pun intended."

"Wow. Alright, Jesus, John, if you were that interested in me you could have just asked . . ." Mike teases, smiling suggestively, deciding that he could, just this once, mess around along with everyone else.

They laugh, and Johnny's ears turn red just barely while he scratches the back of his head. "Nah, it ain't even like that, I was just trying to see if we had another team player. Also I wanted to know if we were still outnumbering Jakes, but that's a whole other thing."

"The only straight one here, when I'm for once supposed to be the goddamn majority, you all gotta mess that up for me." Jakes mutters, and Mike laughs out loud.

"Sorry, I guess?"

But he doesn't have to be. That's the best part.


End file.
